


Just Once

by Oraeliaa



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, Kristanna, Post-Frozen (2013), clumsy anna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oraeliaa/pseuds/Oraeliaa
Summary: The walk seemed like such a good idea, when she'd proposed it to him over lunch. A simple sled ride, a lovely walk, a picnic under the stars. He'd been away for months, wracked with guilt every time he'd woken with a head full of her image, and knew a lovely chaste picnic was exactly what the Dr...no, the Love Experts ordered.Until they're caught in a storm of dangerous proportions, and Kristoff is left with the choice to either take them on a perilous journey back to the castle...or a much safer one to his own lodge; just shy of the lake they'd chosen to picnic beside.Shutting the door behind them, moving to light the fire and find something dry for himself and Anna to wear...he's stricken by the mind numbing realisation that for the first time in their relationship so far, they're fully, truly alone.





	1. The Lake

A walk seemed like such a  _ good  _ idea; when she’d proposed it to him over lunch; and Elsa had readily agreed, with the look of a woman desperate for some peace. “Oh, oh, we could find a clearing and watch the stars!” Anna had gasped, gesturing wildly with a speared potato. He’d been more than happy, after a month away back on the ice steppes to bundle the two of them into his sled and have some time together; not caring how bone tired he was, how he  _ needed _ to sleep for a week before attempting anything remotely physical. He’d left it as long as he could; enjoying birthdays and celebrations and time with Anna...but as the season’s changed, as summer hit them, with balmy winds and warm customers in need of ice - he’d had to leave. He couldn't stay and let them pay for him anymore. 

 

And he’d missed her. He’d never had anyone to miss before, only the trolls and they...he made sure to see them every time he’d come off the ice, previously. Every night he’d made his way back to the shared lodge, or, as they’d moved closer to the forest - his own cabin; had curled up beside Sven or in his bed and had found himself longing for the sweet smell she often carried with her, the way her bright smile lit up the entire room. Every raunchy, loud story the other harvesters told over the fire in the evenings wound its way into his head without a shred of personal permission. But he was steadfast. He focused on his work, with Sven. With his longing; even as it became less and less innocent, his dreams less and less chaste, waking up physically aching and emotionally wrecked by the guilt. 

 

But that was behind him now. He’d seen his family on the way back, feeling conflicted and unsure how he’d look into those bright, innocent eyes again and not feel wracked with personal guilt. They’d told him it was normal; that he’d just been a late bloomer, to not overthink it, less his brain tighten like a screw - cracking his sanity as it would crack a wooden beam. And of course, being the love experts they were, they were right. He’d got back into Arendelle, washed Sven down then immediately scrubbed every inch of his body and changed into something that didn't smell  _ quite  _ as much like reindeer and emotionally conflicted, sweat soaked ice harvester; and had leapt at the first chance to be alone with the woman he loved. 

 

_ She _ , smelled like honeysuckle, he noticed from their renewed proximity, as she leaned into him as he drove, her mouth moving at a mile a minute talking about their preparations for the upcoming fayre. She was filled to the brim with updates- deeming it necessary for him to be made aware of the different drape colours and patterns and the menu choices; and whether he’d like her outfit to be more traditionally designed to match his own usual style; and he...just listened. She didn't honestly, give him much chance to reply. 

 

“I’m sorry...I’m babbling” she muttered, catching herself and blushing, biting her bottom lip in her embarrassment. 

  
“No, no. I’ve...missed this” and he had, truly. “Ice harvesters aren’t exactly talkative. This is refreshing, I’ve missed your...enthusiasm”

 

“Enthusiasm for menu choices and dress options?”

 

“Life”

 

She went silent, pushing her face into the soft, familiar fabric of his arm as she blushed. “I love you”

 

“I love you too” he muttered, smiling before pressing an elbow lightly into her side. “Anyway Feistypants, enough mushyness, we’re here”

 

She gasped, standing and almost crawling onto his lap in a bid to see over his head. His heart stopped in his chest as she did so; cluelessly pressing herself into him to take in the sunset over the ice. He breathed in deeply, calming himself as he slid his hands onto her waist and desperately ignored how easily they spanned the slender distance; lifting her ever so carefully away from him and out of the carriage. 

 

“Oh Kristoff it’s beautiful, it’s absolutely beautiful!” she squealed, running forwards and spinning on the spot, plaits flying out around her. He untethered Sven and let his best friend wander free before returning to Anna’s side; hefting the surprising weight of her bag onto his back and taking her hand in his own. The route around the lake wasn’t one he’d taken in some time, but apart from a steady supply of slick, continuous mud the path was still clear, and the two made it to the clearing before the sun had truly set; sitting together on the clean grass; her curled into his side as he’d been longing for the entire time he’d been up on the plains. It...it was just this, this sudden and new want for human contact; with only her. He truly, truly couldn’t imagine ever wanting to hold anyone else this way; to tuck any other human in the entire world under his arm and watch the sky darken and bruise. 

 

She’d gone quiet now, content to just sit with him, to stroke her thumb across the backs of his hand and press lazy kisses to his knuckles. The worst of the summer was over, but she’d dressed lightly, and he caught her shivers with each breeze - the chill travelling through the thin fabric of her summer dress easily. He shook her off gently and pulled off his holey, troll knitted scarf; a recent gift from his mother, draping it’s uneven, strange shape over her shoulders. He couldn’t help but laugh, it was enormous on her; the wool garment reaching half way down her back and looking more adorable than a scarf had any rights to be. He needed to get himself together, he was acting like a lovesick puppy for goodness sake. He’d seen others act this way, men who had new young ladies waiting for them in town; and he’d always rolled his eyes at them, always scoffed to Sven when they were alone; but he could understand it now, and needed to take his own unvoiced mental advice. 

 

To get a grip.

 

“Do you see that?”

 

“Hmm? What?”

 

Anna released her grip on him, throwing herself back against the embroidered blanket with gusto and pointing at the sky. “Up there! They’re so beautiful”

 

He gazed up at the sky, following the stretch of her arm as if it ended in the most interesting thing the universe had to offer. And as he did, as he clocked the swirling, quick moving wisps of storming death.

 

He knew those clouds. Everyone who made a living out here knew those clouds. 

 

He scrambled to his feet, shoving everything they’d brought back into Anna’s bag - all the tiny bowls of food and sweets; talking as he did so; not caring that the inside of the cloth bag was likely ruined. “We need to go, Anna. Let me get Sven and we’ll go back to the castle, okay? We’ll do this another night”

 

She knelt, small hands tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. “No, Kristoff! We just got here, we haven't even finished the picnic yet...I’ve missed you, I’ve been waiting for months for this; I’ve been planning it and planning it and now you’re saying we have to leave and I don’t understand, they’re just clouds!”

 

“They’re storm clouds Anna, bad ones. I need to get you back to the palace before they hit, okay. It could start raining any second, truly”

 

She glared, crossing her arms across her chest and huffing at him. “Or what?”

 

“Or we’ll get stuck in a rainstorm and your sister might freeze me into a man shaped icicle, that’s what”

 

She snorted. “Elsa would never!...she’d never do...okay she might do that, she’s quite protective you know”

 

He levelled her with a look. “I do know that”

 

She was silent for a few moments before sighing, long and deep. “Fine, come on”

 

“Thank you”

 

He stood; rubbing at his neck nervously as he watched the clouds roll in. they weren’t forecast in the almanac, and he’d heard nothing from the others before leaving...He held his hand out for her, smiling down as she grasped it and he hauled her...softly, to her feet as the wind began to pick up around them. “Time to get you home, Red”

 

“Urgh, fine. Just once though,  _ once _ , I’d like for the two of us to get into a cart and travel out into the woods without an apocalyptic storm happening”

 

“Deal”

 

* * *

  
  
  


The almanac was a liar. An absolute, stinking liar. By the time they’d made it to the point where they could see the sled, a mere twenty minutes of relatively quick walking, a fine mist of rain had already begun - moistening them just enough to be annoying. The wind had picked up, whipping their scarves and hair around their faces; and Kristoff skidded to a halt as he felt a tug at the bag on his shoulder

 

“Anna!” he called, turning - this was not the time for whatever she wanted from the bag. 

 

She wasn't there; and the bag was simply caught on a branch.

 

His heart stopped, and he pulled his hat tighter as he retraced his steps; cursing as the rain fell heavier, as his visibility was reduced. 

 

“Kristoff!”

 

She was knelt at the side of the path, hands wrapped around one ankle, an apologetic smile on her face. 

 

“Anna!”

 

“I caught it on a root, I was just about to carry on, don’t worry”

 

He crouched, large hands resting on her slender upper arms.

 

“Is it hurt? Are you alright?”

 

She nodded, smile a little watery; though whether it was from emotion or the rain he wasn’t certain.

 

“I think so, but...my shoe won’t make it” she replied, sighing as she  as she stood, wavering slightly like a baby deer and holding one small boot in her hand. The heel had completely snapped, and was hanging on by a scrap of fabric. She took a step and stumbled, yelping and reaching for his arm.  For a moment, a sweet, blissful moment, everything was fine. Sure, Anna’s ankle was a little sore, but she’d made it across blizzards and lept from cliff faces - and if she said it was fine, it was. He reached for her, knowing he’d catch her and support her, and they’d get in the cart, and he’d evaluate both the clouds and their best route out of the valley and out to the castle. 

 

But her hands didn’t close on one of his ice-strong arms. They didn't snag on his rough, callused hands...they closed on air, and she slid to the ground, mud coating her as she rapidly, more so than he could have imagined, made her way towards the lake beside them. 

 

He shouted her name as he abandoned the bag and ran after her, feet slipping and sliding on the mud as he forced himself to stay upright. Why she was laughing, he had no idea; she was on a one way trip to a very cold bath, but there she was, cackling as she turned onto her back; skirts hiked up to her waist and bloomers sodden with mud. The water was rough with raindrops, each creating a small extending circle upon its surface, and she crashed through with a screech as the cold water hit her skin through the many layers of fabric. He stopped, watching, waiting for her to breach the surface so he could pull her into the safety of his arms. 

 

And waited

 

...and waited

 

Realistically, he knew he’d given her less than ten seconds before throwing off his jacket and trousers and leaping in after her, swearing as his own sensitive skin hit the cold water. He knew with absolute certainty that the garments would only slow him down as her own were currently doing; and it took no time at all to grab the panicking woman around the waist and drag her back to shore. They breached the surface together, and he was glad for his height advantage as he waded to shore; crouching over her prone form as she lay on the sodden grass, panting for breath. 

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, worry lodging itself deep in his heart.

 

“I...really need to learn to swim!”

 

He helped her sit upright, wiping the mud and pond-life from her hair as the rain increased to a deluge around them. “Stay there Anna”

 

“But-”

 

“Stay. There. I need to go get my clothes, and then we’re going to safely, and slowly, go back to Sven. And then...I need to evaluate our options”

 

She pouted, but nodded, and he was overwhelmingly grateful every time he glanced back and saw her still there. His clothes were sodden, and even more soiled than hers after being on the lakeside, but he forced himself to tug the offending items on, grimacing as he walked back to his pouting princess.  

 

“How’s your ankle?”

She flexed one delicate foot, somehow managing to make even that action look obstinate. “It hurts” she finally admitted, arms crossed over her chest, raising her voice to be heard over the rain. He crouched, pressing a kiss to her slick, wet forehead. 

 

“Come on then, let’s get you to the sled”

 

He didn’t trust himself to lift her, not on this ground. The last thing he wanted was to slip and kill them both by smashing their heads over a rock.  Instead, he slid an arm around her waist and helped support her as they slowly made their way back to an incredibly wet, nervous reindeer. He’d obviously been waiting for them, and Kristoff wasted no time helping the woman he loved into the sled and fastening Sven in; scratching the animals ears for a minute as he stared at the sky, pulling his hat back off to slide his hair back. 

 

**“I don’t think we’re going to make it back to the castle, Kristoff”** he said to himself, his voice taking on the deep baritone he’d always given his best friend. 

 

“I know buddy” he replied, face set in a hard line as he watched the sky above them groan. 

 

**“Think of her reputation, being whisked off to a cabin in the woods with an ice harvester!”**

 

“I know...but that sky looks like thunder, and the last thing we want to do is be out here in a full blown storm”

 

 **“The queen won’t be happy”**  Kristoff finished, then answered himself, tone set and resolute. Sven was right, obviously, but so was he. “She’ll be even less happy if I deliver an electrocuted princess in a broken sled”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. The Cabin

“Put this over your head!”

He threw his coat over her as the rain buffeted them from above. Huge, fat drops that completely obscured their vision and had Sven’s hooves slipping on the mud-slick ground. A simple picnic. That’s all this was supposed to be. Two people who had been separated for a few months due to one of that pair’s pre-existing ice harvesting career; having a lovely time together. 

Nothing was ever simple though, not when it came to the crown princess of Arendelle. 

“Stay dry, please Anna!”

She held the coat tighter over her head, holding onto Kristoff’s strong arm as he clung to the reigns, desperately trying to keep Sven on course. 

“There’s no point! I’m already soaked”

He squinted, trying to see ahead and almost completely failing as the weather got worse; as Sven himself struggled to keep up and slid to a halt, turning against his holster and staring back at the sodden couple. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her, instead trying to simultaneously focus on her words and on not sliding into a ditch.

“Kristoff, we can’t keep going!” She lifted the coat, holding it over his head as well as her own, drawing him under the thick, wet fabric. “We aren’t going to manage to get home in this... We can barely see in front of us!”

He smirked at her, at her fierce expression, at the strands of red hair clinging to her face. “What happened to the princess that insisted we travel up the North Mountain in the worst blizzard in history?”

Anna scoffed. “She’s soaked to the skin and has been watching Sven try to walk in this awful weather for fifteen minutes! We need to find a shelter, we aren’t going to make it back to the castle in this!”

Kristoff didn’t answer, she was right; of course she was - but he wasn’t trying to take her back to the castle...they’d given up on that before even setting off. 

She leant back and the torrent of water hit him once more. A flash of lightning crashed through the sky and she screamed lightly, slamming herself into his chest and burrowing her face into his soaked tunic.

“Are you...scared of”

“Only when I’m outside in it! I think that’s rather sane, don’t you?!”

He hesitated, unsure of himself for a second before catching Sven’s eyes and sighing. “Take us home boy”

“We won’t reach home!”

“No Feistypants” he began, flicking the reigns and holding her in tightly against his chest. “We won’t reach your home...mine is relatively closeby”

She went quiet beside him as they continued; slender fingers gripping into the thick fabric of his jacket as Sven took them carefully over the slick ground. He didn't need sight for this journey; they could both do it in their sleep by now - often he did fall asleep whilst his friend dragged them home; and they’d never gotten lost. 

He’d hoped to give the place a fresh coat of paint before bringing Anna here, fix that half broken shed at the side...maybe plant some nice colourful things around the front…but the cottages imperfections were hardly visible in this light, and he focused instead on keeping the coat over her head as he unclasped Sven, as he pushed the sled into the stable and got the two of them in the door. She stood in the doorway shivering as he bustled about, grabbing towels and blankets and spare clothes; reminding him far too much of her condition when he’d had to carry her to his family. 

It took precious moments to light a fire, but relief coursed through him as he blew on the kindling, as he saw the first embers of a flame beginning in the hearth. It was a small home, nothing like the castle she’d grown up in - and it warmed as quickly as you’d expect. He shed his jacket, hanging it next to the coat beside the door, and smiled at Anna, now inside the cottage but still wrapped in the rapidly moistening blankets he’d thrown around her as soon as they’d entered. 

“Let’s get you dry...”

His voice petered off as he realised he didn’t have a scrap of female clothing in his humble abode. He voiced as such, smiling softly at her answering blush. 

“Whatever you have is fine; though...I’ll need some help if that’s okay?”

His reply was practically a squeak; as he asked what she meant. 

“I didn’t realise that I’d be undressing without my handmaidens, and wanted to look nice for our picnic…”

“No, of course you...obviously you wouldn’t have planned for…”

He looked her over, confused. She of course, looked lovely, even waterlogged and covered in mud - the dress was a soft lilac, with small flowers of some sort on the bodice bit; and leaves on the neckline. “You look beautiful”

She scoffed at his words, gesturing to herself as she laughed. “I look like something from a swamp”

“My swamp princess” he chuckled, not managing to get another step towards her; to wipe the filth from her face, before a line of muddy water hit him square in his roughly wiped face - courtesy of one rapidly gesturing arm as she began to explain that such items of clothing took more than one person to put on, nevermind take off. She didn’t notice as she turned, trying and failing to reach for the difficult knots, giving up with a huff as he cut through the silence with a gentle “let me”

He’d told himself that he’d keep his eyes firmly on her skin as he released the laces on her corset - skin was skin afterall, and a square of skin on Anna was realistically not very different to any number of patches of skin he’d seen on other ice harvesters over the years; and managed it. He managed it, because he found himself riveted, face as flushed as his breaths were uneven - unable to look away. Her skin here was as freckled as her shoulders or cheeks; but lighter, not often seeing the sun after all. He forget himself for a moment, releasing the strings of the cinching item to trace a finger down one of the freshly revealed, angry, red marks that marred that perfect ivory skin, drawing the underslip down as he did so to see them better. 

She sighed beneath him, and he hated how easily that single sound ran through him. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head, dainty fingers reaching up to tug at her half-tied hair, loosening the auburn locks so they flowed over her shoulders. “It’s...like taking off a pair of shoes after a long walk”

“I think we’re wearing different shoes, Princess. Mine don’t give me bright red welts”

She giggled under his touch, as he cast the newfound hair back to the front, as he continued stroking down the marks with revery. 

“You should kiss them better”

She tensed under his hands, as if shocked by her own words; and he hesitated to. Wanting to wasn’t the issue, not even a little bit...he just couldn’t help thinking he shouldn’t. But...he couldn’t resist. He would likely never be able to resist anything that she asked of him, and if he hadn’t have realised that before it was painfully obvious now. 

She gasped as his lips touched her skin, and he felt himself reciprocate the sound - she was so, so soft. His hands felt huge, and uncouth, against the sagging fabric of the offending item; against the expanse of revealed skin. So, so soft - her skin against his hand, his hand against her ribs. 

The feeling between them. 

There was a charged tension there, unusual in its newness. 

“I shall have to call you every time we have a function…”

“Mm?”

“I’ve been known to bruise” she contemplated, words sounding almost bored - almost, as it was impossible to sound bored whilst quite this breathless. “with some of the more fashionable dresses; great lines, right down my chest”

He didn’t know what to say, stricken by his disbelief at the things she forced herself to wear and the idea of being able to have this moment after every ridiculous function she forced him to. 

And then...realised that he knew exactly what to say - the truth. 

“I’d like that”

She glanced over her shoulder, long neck twisting with the effort, and smiled - bright, blinding in it’s sincerity - and he knew from the twinkle in her eyes that his own mirrored it exactly. He was absolutely, unequivocally, in love with this woman; and would spend every night only doing this, nothing else, if it meant being able to be alongside her for as long as she’d have him. He knew he wasn’t at her station, that she was stubborn and opinionated and hot headed to a fault; but she kept him on his toes in the most amazing, unexpected way. 

And she didn't care who he was, what his position in society was...she had told him, inexplicably, that she just wanted him to be him - reindeer and all. He finished his task as he thought, glancing at the ground as he did so to distract himself - especially as she stepped out of the dress and let it pool at her feet; stepping away from him in just her thin, once white slip. 

No. No. He shook his head a little, forcing his gaze away from the soft silhouette the fire cast through the oversized, thin slip and towards the dresser; yanking the drawer open a little too forcefully in his distraction. He didn’t see her coy, knowing smile, or the way she silently padded across the floor in stockinged feet, his gaze too focused on which of his tunics wouldn’t be horrifically large or distractingly see-through. 

He simply jumped, feeling as if his heart had stopped in his chest at the sudden sensation of her warm softness against his arm. “You’re still all wet, Kristoff - you need to get changed too”

His voice caught in his throat as she reached under his arm to rifle through the carefully folded selection of clothes - the few brief options he owned, all functional, mostly patched and repaired over the years; leaving them scattered and disorganised as she went. 

“Here, go put these on, and I’ll have...these on when you turn back around!”

He faltered, looking at the dark green top she’d grabbed; at the white tunic she’d thrust into his arms. He turned, pulling a pair of dry trousers from the chest staring at the waistband as he stood in the dim light of the room. He didn't...have anything that fit her tiny frame on the bottom, and had never felt so negatively self conscious of his size. He’d seen other nobles; not counting the arse she’d been engaged to when they’d met, and they...didn’t exactly look like him. He was an ice harvester after all, honed and built from years hulking huge chunks of the stuff from the fjords of their beautiful country. Biceps firm from lifting his cousins, from dragging trolls around the forests he grew up in...it wouldn’t surprise him if he could do her corset up around his thigh, for goodness sake!

He needed to stop thinking about her corset if he had any hope of surviving the night...

“Kristoff?”

Her voice was quiet, and uncertain, and he quickly stripped off the sodden clothes, pulling the pants and top on and collecting himself briefly before turning back to face her; breath catching in his throat as he caught took the image in. She’d taken down her hair, and whilst she still had a smear of mud on her face it almost suited her; the total abandonment of princess to look more at home in his rustic cabin. His mind flitted back to his offhand comment when they first met - “were you raised in a barn?”

Seeing her here, lit only by the roaring fire, stockings barely visible through the mud; rough, patched tunic covering her til not a hint of delicate curve remained...it seemed more true than ever. And she, even more perfect.

“I don’t think these trousers will fit…” she muttered, glancing up at him through her lashes as he got closer, hands firmly stuffed in his pockets to stop from lifting her into his arms. 

“You can’t stay in those socks though” he countered, wondering where the slightly gravelly tone to his voice had come from, as it certainly hadn’t been there before. 

Her look continued to be...coy? He desperately hoped it was, and that he wasn’t just projecting his own feelings onto her.

She nodded, stepping to the side and resting one impossibly small foot at a time onto the carved chair. Her hands slid the tunic up as they pulled the stockings down, and he knew he should look at the ceiling, at the floor... Anywhere but the slow progressing showcase of never-before skin. He couldn't though, not as she continued to chat about how the dry mud felt against her legs, about how much of the food was salvageable...about how she’d smooth things over with Elsa, and he wasn’t to worry; and his mother, in all her troll wisdom, had told him it was rude not to look at someone who was talking to you. 

She threw them to him, one by one, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever held such finely woven cloth. 

“Those can be thrown away, unless you have some use for them - the fall laddered them terribly, and the mud will have stained them”

“I’ll fix them”

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, breathing out as she did so and padding across the small space to where he was awkwardly stood in the centre of the room, staring at the two stockings and trying to figure out how to darn them. He didnt realise she’d walked towards him, didn’t catch the shiver across her skin as her feet made contact with the cold, stone floor, not yet warmed by the roaring fire. 

He only caught onto her approach as the tights were removed from his hands, tossed to the floor and replaced by an armful of Anna. He only caught onto her chill as she shivered against him, and only lost his thoughts as she pressed her lips against his; straining on her toes to reach. He was firm, but tentative at first, hands resting lightly on her upper arms; but groaned as her tongue flicked out to dart at the seam of his lips, as her blunt nails caught his sides through the loose cotton shirt she’d picked out for him. He slid his hands to the small of her waist, noting the difference in the sensation compared with before, when she’d been blocked from his touch by layers of fabric and steel boning. She was soft, and pliable, and he could feel her ribs ever so slightly as he squeezed, as he lifted her in his arms so he wouldn't have to stoop.   
He’d learnt as they’d kissed these last few months, that there was nothing that short-circuited his brain more than the feelings of her arms tightening around him, of those strong fingers tangling in her hair and tugging, ever so slightly. He genuinely thought, that no one sensation would ever beat the rush he got when he felt it happen, each and every time their meetings grew heated...til the moment she took advantage of that lift and secured her legs around his hips. He pulled her flush against him as his hands slid from her waist up to her back, then scandalously down to her own hips - not sure where to touch, where to rest. Her tongue, once again the brave of the two, moved against his own and she tasted like rain and remnants of the sugar scones they’d had by the lake, and he became impossibly aware of how long it had been since they’d been alone, never mind since they’d shared anything more than a chaste kiss hello or goodbye. 

The kettle, resting on the small shelf beside the fire, whistled sharply and drew them out of their reverence for one another; gasping for air as they glanced to the side where the offending object remained. It was for the best, really; Kristoff was painfully, uncomfortably aware of the sheer amount he strained against the laces of his hastily thrown on trousers; and the niggling voice at the back of his mind reminded him that although she’d accepted him, she was still the princess...moving further than this would be wrong, impossible…

“If you put me down Bjorgman, I swear to god I’ll set Elsa on you myself”

He glanced down at the woman, still tightly wound around him. 

“I can see the look on your face and I swear to god I haven't been spending months trying to figure out how to orchestrate some time alone only to waste the golden opportunity that’s landed in our laps!”

She? She’d been...what?

“You don’t need to look so shocked!”

“I think I’m just a little surprised” he admitted, glancing between her and the kettle and gently moving over; one hand on her and the other reaching out to grab the cloth and move the water out of the way of the flames. 

“Why, because I’m a princess, or because I’m a woman?” she snapped, face so determined to be mad. 

“What do you want then, Feistypants?” he grinned, glad she was so slight as he continued to hold her against him.

“I want you to kiss me again”

“And then?”

She stared for a minute before snorting and slapping him on the upper arm. “You pig, you’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

He nodded with a smirk, glancing behind her at the bed, and then twisting to take in the chairs he had by the fire. There was only one, and it was wood - not particularly comfy for two people to try and kiss on. The bed...felt too forward. She caught his eye and reciprocated his expression, the knowing look bringing worry into his heart. What on earth was she about to say…

“Lead the way, Bjorgman”

“To?”

“To your bedroom, of course”

Looking behind her, they were already in the bedroom. And the dining room...and the kitchen. He did as she commanded though, walking the two towards the bed that was tucked into the far side of the room - close enough to the fire to feel its warmth, but not too close to be stifling. His heart pounded in his chest as they neared the bed, which really didn't take long, considering it was about 5 steps away from the fire, and he paused as he reached the short, wooden side. Did he keep hold of her, and sit down with her...on his lap? No, she’d feel the evidence of his arousal immediately...did he place her on the bed? That could be too presumptuous…

“Kristoff, are you okay?”

He glanced down at her, nodding, wanting to put her down so she could once again take the lead but feeling simultaneously that he needed to show some initiative in this entire process. 

“If you bite your lip anymore, it might come off. Here, put me down”

He did as she asked, and she threw herself onto the mattress, tucking her legs under her and holding out a hand. He sat next to her, leaning in for another kiss and glancing down in shock at the hand that stopped him, palm flat against his chest. 

“Kristoff, what’s wrong?”

He couldn't tell her, not when she was so confident in this and looking forward to something he hadn't prepared himself for at all…he was over analysing every little detail, every motion, terrified of doing something wrong. He wanted...to devour her, and simultaneously tuck her in and bring her tea and just hold her til morning and had no idea which was the correct course of action in a situation like this. 

“Kristoff come on, is it something I’ve done?”

He caught her eye, and sighed deeply at the sincerity he found there, the worry that creased the edges...the downturned glances. “No Anna, you’re perfect, I promise...I’m just. I just wasn’t...expecting this”

“No, I wasn’t either. It’s a nice surprise”

“Yeah” it was, of course it was. He was the luckiest man alive...so why didn’t he feel...comfortable?

“Don’t you...want to?”

He startled at that, and wanted to ask how on earth she’d think that, but knew immediately why she would. Because he himself, wasn’t certain. 

“No, no of course I do. Honestly Anna my brain has felt like it’s going at the speed of a snail and Sven when chasing a carrot simultaneously since you asked me to help remove your corset and I just don’t know what to do, or not to do, or...whether I’m ready”

“If you aren’t ready Kristoff then that’s fine, honestly”

“But you’ve been...trying to...and I didn’t know a-”

She cut him off, leaning in to press her lips against his. “And this is all it needs to be - I wasn’t planning on...on sleeping with you, you know. Just...just this is nice”

His voice was uncertain as he felt himself relax, and warm again, the nerves leaving his system as she looked up at him, so open and honest. “I was just so nervous of doing the wrong thing or being presumptuous. The Ice Harvesters talk about bedding women and such so often, and I never really used to pay attention to it but now I can’t stop thinking about it and...and you”

Her cheeks flushed, the shade of pink standing out against her hair. “You do?”

“Of course I do! It’s not something I’ve ever really thought about though...before I met you”

“I promise you, Kristoff, that if we ever start moving towards something I’m unhappy with, I’ll tell you - okay? But only if you promise to do the same?”

He nodded, gasping against her lips as she threw herself at him once more; and this time he didn’t panic, sliding his hands up the outside of her thighs as she threw them over his hips. She was soft under his hands; more so than he’d imagined, and he felt like a weight had been lifted, even as one firmly settled itself atop him. He loved her, and she him - no rushing into it, not with this romance, and definitely not with each other.


End file.
